


Take me away to some place real

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healing, LLF Comment Project, Multi, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Post-Framework Universe (Marvel), Triad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 09:23:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11643624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: After the Framework, Fitz decides to go see his mother for a few days and takes Jemma and a reluctant Daisy with him. Things are not easy, but helped by three late-night conversations, Daisy learns that they can choose to not make them hard.





	Take me away to some place real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everythinghappensforareason17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythinghappensforareason17/gifts).



> For the AosFicNet Exchange! Hope you like it, @everythinghappenslove! The prompt was this one: canon-divergent fitzskimmons, where there's no space prison and after the framework and dealing with his father all over again, Fitz decides to go see his mother for a few days and he takes Jemma and a reluctant Daisy with him. It can be established Fitzskimmons or it can turn that way later on.

Title from [Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mVbdjec0pA) by Gabrielle Aplin, mandatory listening for this story.

You can find my other Poly Fitzskimmons stories [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/meltwithyou/profile) and my other stories about AOS characters healing after traumatic events [here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/slowly). 

* * *

**_Cause they say home is where your heart is set_**

**_in stone,_  ** **_is where you go to rest your bones._ **

* * *

“Fitz wants to go visit his mum.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.”

She thinks:

_That’s actually a good idea. Free time and distance and his mum and familiar things and places to help weed out his own real memories from the fake ones are all things that would do him good._

_Coulson is not very keen on giving anyone vacation time, but there are a lot of extenuating circumstances working on their favour. I am more than willing, even, to play one of my best bribing cards to give them a hand, if needed._

She says:

“That would probably be good.”

Jemma nods once, curt.

“Yes, I think so too. Fair warning, though.” And those are the magical words to make Daisy’s shoulders tense immediately. “He wants you to come with us.”

It’s not that Daisy has forgotten about the shy, tentative kisses she shared with both of them before all this madness started, the promises of extended talking, of arrangements, of sorting things out, of _we will make it work._ She could never forget about that. But this madness _has happened,_ and there is so much over all of their backs and minds, especially Fitz’s, that Daisy didn’t think sorting this out was a priority. Even if thinking so hurts like hell.

“But, but, but... why?”

Jemma shrugs, and Daisy knows that she is trying to keep her emotions under control as much as she can, probably because she thinks it’s not her place to tip the scales one way or the other.     

“You should ask him that.”

Daisy takes a step forward; they haven’t kissed in a long while, and she can see Jemma’s lips trembling at the proximity. She is not trying to _seduce_ an answer out of her, but she misses both of them like crazy, and maybe Fitz is not ready to deal with this right now with everything else that’s happening on his life, but that doesn’t mean that her and Jemma can't still find comfort in each other.

“Okay. If he asks me, I will.” She raises a hand to touch slightly the contour of Jemma’s face, and Jemma closes her eyes. “But what do you think?”

Jemma opens her eyes and there is a hint of betrayal on them, and that’s not at all what Daisy wanted, so she lessens the bite by sliding her hand down Jemma’s arm until she can hold her hand. Jemma looks down at their entwined hands for a moment and seems to accept the peace offer.

“This is not about me. It’s about him and about what he needs. This is what he thinks he needs, and you should consider what do _you_ want and what do you think will be best for _you_ too, Daisy.”

She draws circles over Jemma’s knuckles, trying to convey into that small movement all the feelings that are overflowing her.

“I know. But I asked what do _you_ think, Simmons.”

Jemma squeezes her hand, and Daisy feels for a second like they are in some kind of victorian romantic novel, where they have to express everything they feel with just a touch of their hands, because they aren’t allowed anything else.

“Honestly? I think that free time and good homemade food and Mary Fitz are all things that we could benefit from.”

She has heard every amazing story there is to tell about Fitz’s mum, and she can’t say that she is not tempted, so she gives Jemma’s hand one last squeeze, and a tight smile.

“Okay. We will see, then.”

* * *

The truth is that without the comforting weight of Jemma’s hand on hers, things look a lot less clear and a lot less certain. She appreciates the fact that Fitz reached out to ask her, but she is afraid she might hold him back more than she can help him.

They all went through some rough stuff, and through relationship-testing situations, but Fitz and Simmons’s relationship is older and more mature and therefore more ready to endure serious issues than the relationship she has with both of them. While their journey to the Framework intrusion and their time there improved her relationship with Jemma, for obvious reasons the same things could only strain her relationship with Fitz.

She doesn’t blame him, but she knows he still blames himself, and she can see the hurt on his eyes whenever he looks at her. She is in two minds about what to do, because she doesn't want to be the reason why he stills beats himself up, but at the same time she doesn't want to overlook his own request for support.

She asked him to give her a day or maybe two to take a final decision, and he said _Of course_ with that soft way of his and his eyes full of longing, and Daisy almost kissed him on the spot.

She knows Jemma doesn’t want to mingle too much in what she considers should be a matter between her and Fitz, but she is an integral part of this relationship, and whether she likes it or not, she is already too interlaced in both their lives to pretend to be neutral. That’s what she is looking for when she goes to the kitchen at midnight full knowing that she will find Simmons there brewing tea.

“So Fitz asked me to go to Glasgow with you guys.”

Simmons nods, and only then Daisy realizes that the bags under her eyes and the exhaustion on her features and the fact that she _knew_ Simmons wouldn’t be asleep at this hour, are all things that are _not okay._

“Told you he would.”

Daisy swallows, the words she was about to say feeling like sandpaper on her throat.

“Do you think I should?”

She wants to ask Jemma to trust her, to let her share some of the burden on her shoulders. She aches to touch her, to at least try to kiss away all her worries, to tell her that she can’t promise that everything will be okay, but that she is trying her best. That she knows that they _all_ are trying their best, and that’s all that matters.

Jemma sits down at the dinette before answering, the steam from her mug making her face look like it has a little more color.

“Can I ask you two questions?”

“Sure.”

“What makes you think you _shouldn’t_ go?”

Daisy sits down next to her, and Jemma bumps her shoulder against hers. It makes Daisy smile a little, despite what she is about to say tasting so bitter on her mouth.

“I don’t want to intrude somewhere that may not be my place. And I want him to heal, without the painful, constant reminder that apparently I am to him. I want to add up to this relationship, and not play it down.”  

“Okay. And why do you think you _should_ go?”

Daisy hesitates for a moment, because she knows exactly where her answer will lead Jemma.

“Because he asked. And because I want to go.”

Jemma nods again, and she might be more worn-out than Daisy thought to not be doing her _I told you so_ face.

“I don’t have any better advice than to trust yourself and to trust him, Daisy. That’s the only truth on this, and the only thing that should matter.”

Daisy drapes her arm around Jemma’s shoulders, and despite the coolness of her voice, she can feel Jemma  trembling. There are so many things she wishes she could tell her, but nowhere seems to be the right place, never seems to be the right time. Maybe she is right, and it’s not only Fitz who needs the time off; maybe they all could benefit from a break.

“Okay. I will go, then.”          

* * *

Daisy doesn’t get involved much in the logistics, a little because they have done this enough times to have a well-oiled method, and a little because she doesn’t want to risk any chance of one or all of them regretting this decision. That’s how she finds herself traversing Glasgow streets almost without being fully aware of how it happened, trying to not stay too far behind the golden duo, who hadn’t been here in too many years, but still seem to remember it as well as the palm of each other’s hands.  
  
She doesn’t know if it’s the air, the scottish accents all around them, or just knowing that they are away, but Fitz already looks like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, his body posture more relaxed, his smiles easier, his talking more and more excited the closer they get to his mum’s house. That is, mostly, why she stays always one step behind them, so she can witness the change happening.

If she had knew that all it would take for him to smile again was coming to Scotland, she would have done this trip a thousand times already.

* * *

Mary Fitz doesn’t look surprised when she opens the door to find her son and two women standing awkwardly next to him. Daisy is pretty confident they didn’t warn her beforehand because Fitz didn’t want to get her hopes up in case an emergency ended up stopping them from going through with their plans. She doesn’t look surprised, but delighted, like she is always ready to welcome back his son and whoever he brings here under his wing. That is probably accurate, considering the mythical stories both Fitz and Simmons tell about her.

She goes out to hug Fitz first, maybe with less emphasis than what Daisy was expecting, and the sobs they are hearing are probably Fitz’s, because Daisy can see her face from where she is standing, and it looks dry. Her suspicions are confirmed when Mary moves to flail over Jemma with a _Looking amazing as usual, dear Jemma girl_ and Fitz rubs the cuff of his sweater over his eyes. After planting two kisses on Jemma’s cheeks, Mary moves to look directly at her, with an inscrutable look in her eyes.

“I have heard so much about you, Daisy.”    

Daisy doesn’t know the protocol, since she doesn’t have an actual, _proper_ family outside the S.H.I.E.L.D. ranks, but in that instant she wonders if Mary _knows._ If Mary knows about her powers, about Simmons’s incursion in another planet and Fitz’s incursion in another reality. If she knows that Simmons pulled both herself and Fitz through ninety feet of water on a breath only meant for one. If Mary knows that Fitz stayed by her side when no else would. If Mary knows that Fitz brought Simmons back through space through a rock. If Mary knows that Simmons almost got herself killed trying to bring him back too. If Mary knows that both her and Fitz tried to kill each other at some point in time, and that both have sequels that feel like never will be healed fully. If Mary knows that she would gladly give a kidney for either of them. If she knows that they are her siblings and her friends and her lovers and her loves, and everything in between.

Mary puts a hand on her shoulder, and Daisy realizes looking into her eyes that she is doing it because they don’t know each other and she is not sure how much Daisy would be comfortable with physical contact, not because she doesn’t want to hug her. She can not blame Fitz for crying, really.

“Welcome home, darling.”

* * *

Daisy didn’t think that it would be easy (when is _anything_ easy to any of them?), but she didn’t think it would be _this_ hard.

They are not doing it on purpose, she is sure of that, because they would never hurt her if it could be avoided; she is also afraid of speaking up, because she is not sure how much of it is really happening and how much are her nerves and her intense imagination and her paranoia.

Either way, she feels like shit, because they are all sitting in the kitchen, and they are talking about people she doesn’t know (the majority of them seem to be old acquaintances of Mary, or former neighbours, but Jemma seems to be up to date with who is who and who does what about all of them, which is a little shocking because she probably didn’t even meet at least half of them), and anecdotes she had never heard. Jemma flies around the kitchen helping Mary with dinner, and she knows exactly which cabinet to open and which is the right knife for every action, and Daisy feels like an useless potato.

(She could use this as an opportunity to get into this inner circle, of course. To learn about all this people and to learn one or two of Mary’s secret recipes, that never fail to cheer Fitz up; but she has a heavy heart and, really, what’s the point of going against the way things are meant to be, and clearly she is not meant to be here.)

She can not hope for this three days to go faster.       

* * *

They decide to go to bed right after dinner, because it’s not that late but they are all knackered because of the trip and all the emotions.

“Would you come to bed with us?”

She realizes then that nothing that was said before or during dinner implies that there all together _together,_ and clearly that is the deciding signal she was looking for.

“Shhh, Simmons, lower your voice!”

In fact, Mary and Fitz are both in the kitchen talking loudly over each other, so the chances of them overhearing are slim; anyway, Daisy feels sort of strangely ashamed, and doesn’t want to risk it, and that’s why she grabs Jemma’s arm and drags her to the bathroom.

“Daisy, what’s the problem with-?”

“Not in front of Fitz’s mum, okay?”

Jemma squints and Daisy feels sort of panicked.

“What not in front of Mary?”

“This. Us.” She gestures wildly between their bodies in lieu of explanation. “And also Fitz. Well, me and Fitz. She have probably waited a ton of years for you two to get together, so let her have that for a while, okay?”  

Jemma tightens her lips in a sour gesture.

“Daisy, we are all adults and-”

“Spare me the scolding, will you? I know that we can do whatever the hell we want, but I, at least, don’t know what the hell we are doing, so, please, forgive me if I don’t want anyone else involved, with their own set of disappointments and expectations, before we sort this all out.”

It came out harsher than she intended, but she can not deal with Jemma’s watery eyes right now, so she storms up and climbs the stairs two at a time until she can throw herself on the guest room’s bed.

* * *

Her plan doesn’t go as intended (again, when do things go as planned, for any of them?), and she can’t stop tossing and turning on the bed, unable to find sleep.

She could stay all night wide eyed on the bed, feeling guilty and ashamed, but after all nobody forced her to come here, and if she has to endure a couple more days here, she better do it with a couple hours of sleep on her shoulders. Or at least a sweeter taste on her mouth.

And a cup of hot cocoa is the solution for both of those problems.

She feels a bit strange barefoot on a house, something that hasn’t happened to her in she can’t remember how long (she was staying on houses during her vigilante time, alright, but she didn’t have time to traverse them barefoot at night, much less to make herself a cup of hot cocoa).

She should have kept in mind that this is not her house, and that she is not here alone.

“Daisy. Can’t sleep?”

She could just turn around and go back to bed and back to her plan of staying awake and miserable, but after all they did this trip so he could feel better, and he is making space for her to sit next to him on the couch, and she can’t be that rude, not when he looks so cute on his plaid pajamas.

“Yeah. You?”

“Always have a hard time time sleeping the first night I’m back here. It’s like my body has to get used to the different environment and everything before being able to fully rest.”

“Oh. Um. I’m sorry.” He hums in acknowledgement and fiddles with something on his hands. “What is that?”

“This old thing? Just the circuit on my mum’s old toaster. Every time I make a visit she manages to break it again. I’m pretty sure she does it on purpose just so I can have something to do with my hands on these sleepless first nights, but don’t tell her I’m onto her.”

“That’s nice.”

“That she breaks a toaster over and over again instead of asking me to do something actually useful?”

“No. I mean, yes. But mostly, it’s nice how well you know each other. You and your mum.”

He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, and Daisy rearranges herself to sit on her calves; the pressure helps her to stay focused and to not let herself get lost on the sentimentality. He is quiet for a long time, and he tentatively puts a hand on one of her knees before speaking.

“I’m really glad you agreed to come with us, Daisy. I know you are not having the easiest time here, and I don’t understand why, but that makes me appreciate your effort even more.”

She places a hand over his, and he has such lovely hands, not only because of how they look, but because they carry at the same time so much potential and so much tenderness.

“It’s hard, you know? I’m not going to lie about it. Even now, even after everything that has happened and you guys not being on the high point of your relationship, it’s still hard being around you and Jemma, in this… in  this capacity, to put it that way.”

Fitz rubs his stubble with his free hand, thinking before addressing what she just said.

“We are difficult people, I will give you that. But you have been around us long enough, and it never seemed to bother you before.”

“It’s not the same.” They are not talking loudly and there are no signs that either Mary or Jemma are awake, but she feels the need to whisper it anyway. She can’t shake completely the feeling that this is a secret to feel ashamed of, and maybe that’s the first problem they should address. “Before, we weren’t… _you know.”_

“Ah.” He withdraws his hand and Daisy’s heart sinks immediately. “We probably didn’t choose the best time-slot to try this, didn’t we? Although I am not sure there is a right moment for _anything_ in the kind of lives we have.”

She didn’t have high expectations about this trip, but they sure weren’t “him ditching her with such a casual tone” low. She makes her best effort at trying to keep her voice under control before speaking.

“Fitz, if you are trying to tell me that it was a mistake, I get it. Nobody could have imagined what happened to us.”

“What?” He turns around quickly, a bewildered look on his eyes, and he stops her getting-up movement with yet another hand on her knee. “That’s the exact opposite of what I was trying to say!”

It’s her turn to look at him with puzzled eyes, and he rubs his eyes, frustrated.

“Daisy, I didn’t ask you to come here because I am mean and I wanted to, to _break up with you,_ or however else you can call to put an end on what’s going on between us.”

She swallows with difficulty, and she is not sure she can believe him, but she _wants_ so hard to believe him.

“Okay.”

Fitz accommodates his body so he is now fully facing her, and takes both her hands between his, his eyes earnest.

“I have no right to ask you for anything else, Daisy. I don’t think I _deserve_ anything. I don’t deserve what Jemma tried to do for me in, in, in _there._ I don’t deserve to be here on time off with my mum and you two. I sure as hell don’t deserve you _or_ Jemma, much less the both of you.”

Daisy opens her mouth to put an end to that nonsense, but Fitz continues speaking before she can make a peep.

“Jemma made me promise that I would try to verbalize what I feel instead of bottling everything up until the feelings are like poison in my blood. And this is me, trying. I miss you, Daisy. I feel like I could die every time I remember what I did to you, but that doesn’t cancel the fact that my bones ache for you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” She is almost not in control of her own mouth, and those are the first words that dribble out. “It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t your fault.”

He sighs and closes his eyes, resigned.

“Daisy, I-”

That’s when she kisses him. It has probably only been a few weeks, and it’s not like they have kissed enough before to settle on expectations of any kind, but she feels like it’s been a million years all the same. He makes a pained noise against her mouth, and she retreats instantly.

“Sorry, I, um, Fitz. Sorry.”

“Thank you.” She looks at him, slack jawed. He opens his eyes slowly, and there is so much longing on them that she feels like bursting into tears. “Thank you.”

“What, what are you thanking me for?”

“It’s difficult, um, it’s difficult sometimes to recognize myself inside this body, still. To be sure that I am alive and that this is real. And, and things like that, like that kiss, those are the kind of thing that make it impossible to forget.”

There is still so much they need to talk about (with and without Jemma), but she nods, because that is something to which she can relate.

“We will take it one step at a time, okay?”

He looks her down, pensive.

“Can I take two steps tonight, though?” He doesn’t wait for her reply before asking. “Come to bed with us?”

She couldn’t find it in herself to say no to him even if she didn’t want to go, and she so does want to go.  

* * *

They go upstairs hand in hand, and when they open the door to Fitz’s old room, Jemma is sitting on the bed. Fitz goes to her and kisses the crown of her head.

“You didn’t have to stay awake for me. You know I always have trouble sleeping the first night here.

Jemma nods, her eyes heavy with sleep, and Daisy’s heart melts.

“I know. Didn’t wait, just woke up. Daisy?”

It is formulated like a question to her, but it doesn’t sound like one, so she remains silent.

“Yeah, Daisy is coming to bed with us.” He takes off his shirt and looks at her, mouth serious but eyes soft. “Aren’t you, Daisy?”

They have never slept the three of them in the same bed, and it feels like a big step, something she maybe should panic about, but they are both looking at her hopeful and expectant, and who is she trying to fool, she so does want to go to bed with both of them.

She takes off her shoes carefully, and then closes the door as silently as possible. She replies without looking at them, because she doesn’t know if she could handle the look on their faces, and baby steps is better than no steps.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”  

* * *

She wakes up nested between them, Jemma’s back tight against her chest, Fitz’s arm covering both their waists. It’s… it’s _something,_ if she is being honest, both of them, and the sun glowing through the half-open shutters, and the smell of early morning, one of the many things that May taught her how to appreciate.

Them, the sunshine, and the smell, and an insistent knocking on the door.

“Crap!” She tries to jump out of bed, something hard to do when you are in the middle of an entanglement of limbs, and she accidentally elbows Fitz on the nose and almost pushes Simmons out of bed. “Guys!” She hisses even though both are fully awake and complaining. “Guys, Mary is knocking!”

Fitz groans and rolls so he can stand up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with one hand and his affronted nose with the other.

“Yeah, mum, breakfast, we _know._ We will be down in a jiffy.”

“That’s fine, dear, but I need to know how Daisy likes her eggs!”

“Scrambled.”

The word flies out of her mouth before she can stop herself, and she covers up her mouth immediately after, as if that could prevent the sound waves to travel through the air and reach Mary’s ears.

“Well then, dear.”

She stays frozen in the same position while Fitz pokes her side, concerned, but when they hear Mary’s footsteps going down the stairs, Jemma starts laughing her head off.

(Breakfast is less apocalyptic than she portended in a rushed whisper to Jemma while they walked down the stairs, and much much less terrible than she feared. Because besides a thoughtful glance or two that she catches Mary sending her son’s way, nobody makes not even one comment about her mishap.)      

* * *

They spend the day going around the city, running errands for Mary as an excuse for Fitz to show them around. To show _her_ around, because Jemma has been here before and has already heard all the stories, but they are trying, _really trying,_ and Daisy can only be warmed by their efforts.

Besides, Fitz is talking more than either of them has heard him talk ever since, and they can almost hear the gears in his head working at top speed while he processes places and memories, and touches some important things that are tokens in his stories; he is disconnecting the jumbled pieces of his memory and putting them back together in the right order, with Jemma’s help and Daisy as his excuse. This is what they came here for, really, and Daisy could almost cry because it’s actually working.

Time flows between them so seamlessly that the day before feels like some sort of nightmare, and when it’s time to go to sleep, she goes with them almost in automatic mode, because it _makes sense._

It also makes sense when she wakes up at midnight because she is missing Simmons’s body warmth right next to her. Fitz is dead asleep, and it’s probably better to let him sleep, since he can use as much rest as he can get. She can’t beat her curiosity, though, and she puts on a sweater on top of her pajamas (she doesn’t spare a thought to the fact that it is Fitz’s; things are going smoothly between them, but they still haven’t talked, and she knows that when things are in an unstable equilibrium is better to not think about them too hard).

Predictably, Simmons is in the kitchen with a cup of just-brewed tea. Unpredictably, she is fighting with a knit work.

“I didn’t know that you knit.”

Jemma sights and leaves the knitting needles and the skeins on the table to get up and fix up another cup of tea for Daisy.

“I don’t. Mary has been trying to teach me for the last thirteen years, but you know how our lives are, I only practice when I’m here. Though it doesn’t go anywhere, it makes me so happy that I don’t consider it lost time. Chamomile?”

Daisy nods, and Jemma pours the hot water over the teabag. She takes the offered cup and brings it closer to her face to let the steam warm up her face.

“That’s nice, and so unlike you, Jemma Simmons, to not try to excel at everything that is thrown your way.”

Jemma nods and mimics Daisy’s position with her own cup.

“It is, isn’t it? I guess that this is just a proof of how much of a good influence Mary is my life; whenever I’m near her I can understand that aphorism that says that half of the beauty of going somewhere is in the journey. Whenever I’m here I feel like life has stopped and I can rest for a couple of days, like nobody is rushing me towards the rest of my life, you know?”

Daisy looks at her, the lines on her face a little softened, and thinks back to the afternoon and the laughs under the cold sun and Fitz’s voice embroidering memory after memory for them and also for himself, and yeah, _she knows._

“I do.”

Jemma smiles at her, and Daisy wishes for a moment that she would get up and come closer and kiss her, but Jemma doesn’t move, and she doesn’t move either. Jemma touches the barely-started knitting with light fingers, and Daisy wonders what it was in her head when she started it, and what it is trying to be now.

“Don’t tell Fitz, but part of the reason why I chose Perthshire for us to settle down is because I don’t know if I could do that, having a normal life, without her near to keep me sane.”

Daisy’s throat closes, and she doesn’t try to identify if it’s because of a nice feeling or a bitter one.           

“It’s so sweet that you are so certain about what you want from life with him.”

Jemma gets up then, places a hand on one of Daisy’s cheeks and kisses her, light as a feather. Daisy chases her lips when she breaks apart, but Jemma puts enough distance between them to be able to look her in the eyes.

“And with you, Daisy. My life with him and with you.”

* * *

She wakes up, she is sure, because Fitz is looking at her.

“Creepy stalker.” She mutters to him, her voice rough with sleep, but teasing all the same. He acknowledges her with a nod.

“You are so bloody beautiful. Have I told you that? Because you are.”

Daisy sucks in a breath and doesn’t answer back. She has heard that kind of comment before, and that’s not why she likes him so much, but him not being ashamed of saying this sort of thing with soft eyes and frankness in his voice, without expecting anything in return, is something that has always marvelled her about him.

Maybe that’s why- because he isn’t asking for it, he isn’t even expecting it- that she leans over and kisses him. His lips are dry, everything in him smells and tastes like sleep, and maybe it should be a little gross, but she loves the domesticity of it all. They are kissing softly, almost chastely, and the warmth from his body and from the sunlight combined are making her body tingle. Until she feels another pair of lips on her neck, and okay, this is too much, if she doesn’t laugh a little she will probably burst.

So she oomphs on her back, distancing herself from Fitz and forcing Simmons to move away a little, and she lets out a long, sunny laugh, while Fitz and Simmons look at each other, puzzled.

“Are you feeling quite alright Daisy?” That is Jemma’s medical voice, and Daisy smiles even though she would like for Jemma to never need to use that voice on her again.

“I’m feeling great. Aren’t you?” She looks at each of them in turn, and here, with sleep still on their cheeks, natural sunlight making their skins glow and their freckles stand out, surrounded by an atmosphere of freedom and quiet, she could swear that they had never been more beautiful.

They look at each other for a moment, and Daisy realizes that the pit had been opened under all of their feet, that she wasn’t the only one feeling troubled and that Fitz wasn’t only at odds with himself. Simmons smiles softly and extends a hand to stroke Fitz’s cheek, but he catches it in the air and takes it to his mouth to kiss it tenderly.

“I think we are getting there.”        

* * *

She and Simmons get out of the house to let Fitz and his mum have the last day to themselves. Jemma takes her to some of the favourite places she has discovered during her many trips here, and Daisy chooses unknown streets for them to wander on, and they have frozen yogurt and they laugh stretched together under a tree on a park, and they imagine a secret life for teen Fitz that the real Fitz- too busy with the stars and the soldering iron and his math- never had the time to enjoy. They came back feeling blessed, and she is so grateful for everything that can still make their hearts beat that she doesn’t let go of Simmons’s hand when they get inside the house.

All the windows has been opened, as if the house itself needed a change of air, and they can only see Mary’s back from where she is leaning against the kitchen counter, and Fitz, standing on the other side of the kitchen, looks like he has just stopped crying.

Daisy feels frozen on her place, because a nice day doesn’t mean that all the wounds are closed, it doesn’t even mean that the pain is gone, and how could she have forgotten that even for a couple of hours. Jemma catches up faster than her, thankfully, and in a couple of long steps goes to stand next to Fitz, and they share one of their infamous Nonverbal Communication Glances, until Fitz nods and Jemma gestures for Daisy to get closer.

Only when she is close enough to see the tears still pending from Fitz’s eyelashes, she sees the tremors running through Mary’s back. She feels very awkward, she has always been instructed to not intrude in moments like this one, she has been taught into believing that she doesn’t belong in other people’s intimate moments. But it’s too late to retreat, and for some reason Jemma left Fitz in her care while she busies herself turning on the kettle and doing small talk with Mary like nothing out of the ordinary is happening, so she accepts her part and opens her arms with a questioning look on her eyes. Fitz mimics the movement opening up his own arms, and Daisy falls into them like she would into a safe net, snuggling closer against his chest, breathing as slowly as she can to try to get him to synchronize his breathing with hers.

Jemma makes tea for four in the blink of an eye, and when Daisy raises her head, they are all sitting in the living room together sipping tea and eating _biscuits,_ and Mary looks at Fitz with the same unyielding love as before, and if something that can take any hit without ending broken actually exists, it’s that love.

* * *

If there is something she didn’t do for sure on this “vacation”, it’s getting more sleep than usual. She doesn’t know if it is the jet lag, the different air, the different mattress, the new bodies besides hers, or just the sum of her worries and her insecurities that at night nagg at the back of her brain, making sleep impossible. Both Fitz and Jemma are deep asleep, and luckily she ended as the biggest spoon tonight, so she can get up without bothering either of them.

There is a phrase Fitz said just before falling asleep still resonating on her head, and apparently she won’t be able to sleep or think about anything else until she works on what that is making her feel. _I don’t know if it was because the bed was too crowded to worry about anything else than not elbowing anyone on the ribs, but these last two nights have been the first two nights in a row that I didn’t had nightmares._

It’s just her luck that when she goes to the kitchen Mary is already there, with a knit work not unlike Jemma’s one. Daisy hesitates for a moment on the doorsill, Mary hasn’t raised her head yet, so she could as easily get back to bed and Mary would be none the wiser, but she is not the kind of person to turn her back to her fears, and maybe she is having a little trouble finding her place on this family because she is being too afraid to make it for herself.

“Can’t sleep, Daisy dear?”

“No. Apparently I broke my ability to have a nice night of sleep without the possibility of being interrupted by an emergency.”

Mary tuts, followed by a nice little laugh that makes Daisy’s body feel warm all over.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Leo can always manage to turn the house on fire all by himself i **f** he wants.”

She fixes two cups of tea with the still-hot water and after offering one shyly to Mary, sits across from her, trying to bite a smile at her comment about Fitz.

“What are you knitting?”

Mary looks down at her work and then at her, apparently making up her mind about something, and Daisy worries that she somehow managed to overstep her boundaries already.

“It’s a jumper. For you.”

Only then Daisy notices that the wool is the same deep blue colour she has seen both Fitz and Simmons wear before, and she is so startled by the confession that she only manages to babble out the most ungrateful comment.

“Wow, you sure are a fast knitter.”

Mary smiles, and doesn’t raise her eyes from her work.

“I am. But I didn’t start this three days ago. I just had to make some adjustments after seeing you in the flesh. Your arms don’t look as muscular in the pictures Leo sent me.”

Daisy wonders for a moment if that is meant to be offensive, coming from a woman who has all her house decorated in pastel colors; but since it’s also coming from the woman who inspires _Jemma Simmons_ and from the woman who raised Fitz to be one of the better, sweeter men Daisy ever met, she decides that it’s probably meant as a compliment.

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

Mary stops her knitting to look at her for a long, excruciating moment, and when she gets back to work, Daisy feels as she just glimpsed to the entirety of her soul.

“Maybe not. But I want to, and I am doing it.”

It’s late, and this unknown kitchen feels too much like a liminal space to not be completely honest with her at last.

“You didn’t know I was sort of dating your son, well, both of them actually, before we came here.”

Mary makes a noncommittal sound and keeps on knitting like Daisy is only talking about the weather instead of putting her entire heart on the line.

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t need to know that you are romantically involved with them to know that you are family.”

It’s too much, too much emotion that she doesn’t know how to hold inside her chest, too much trust that she is too scared to break, so much that probably not even tears are going to be enough. She takes a sip of the too-hot tea to hide her trembling lips until she can find her composure again.        

“Aren’t you scared that I’m going to ruin his relationship with Jemma?”

That’s the real question, isn’t it? That’s the real question that she has been asking herself all this time, how to act on these feelings and these intimacy and all the great things they make her feel without leaving everybody with a broken heart and maybe even a thirteen-years-on-the-making great relationship on her wake.

Mary doesn’t look at her while she answers, and Daisy wonders if that’s how she gets Fitz to talk to her about everything, without forcing him to make eye-contact. And also, with unexpected replies.

“Leo told me that you lost a lot of people. Loved ones. Your mother. A partner. A boyfriend.”

Daisy swallows slowly, but the knot on her throat won’t disappear that way. She is very proud of how much _not weak_ her voice sounds, though.

“I have.”

“My story is not your story, Daisy. But I know a little myself about pain and about loss and about grief. And the best advice I can give you is that you have to hold on tight to the people you love.” She extends her knit-work towards Daisy so she can touch the softness of the material, she supposes, and it feels like the caress they are too far apart to give each other. “People always talks like Leo’s relationship with Jemma is a law of nature, something sacred, but it is not, and it’s _better_ because it’s not unavoidable, because it’s not invincible. They have learned that lesson in the last couple of years, I think, that they are together because they choose to, and that makes them stronger than before. If something ever comes between them, God helps us, it will not be your fault. And meanwhile, you are three consenting adults who clearly love each other and can help each other heal and smile. What’s not to treasure and cherish about that?”

Daisy holds on tight on the jumper wool as to not start crying.

“You are right, Mary. Of course you are right.”             

* * *

**_As long as we are together, does it matter where we go?_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Just give me a reason" by Pink! I keep writing from the ladies' POV after The Framework (two fics for Jemma, one for Daisy, and counting), just because I wouldn't know how to deal with Fitz's head right now. This is not me trivialising how terrible and hard this whole experience was/is for him, this is just me pulling the focus a little so I can cope with this storyline too.
> 
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